He turned to Sarah. “In many ways, Sarah, I think the final swipe should be yours. You’ve earned us the final victory. And in many ways, you’re the one best suited to understand what this means.” He moved aside.
Sarah looked up from Fil’s side, surprised. But she nodded, and moved to Will.
She held her hand over the band. “And so it begins anew.”
She swiped the badge, and the device they’d spent decades creating and testing activated.
Nothing in the world would be the same.
XLV
One week later.
THE EMAILS STILL CAME. WILL sighed as he opened the next, this one from a man who’d heard the Headquarters Island invasion plan while in the Cavern and chose to initiate a trip Outside.
Will, something’s wrong. I can’t use my Energy. I can’t even feel it. I ran into some Alliance friends here and they all said the same thing. Do you know what’s going on?
He tapped out the reply. Yes, I do. The Invasion of Headquarters happened. And then we detonated a device that destroyed all Energy in the world. The corruptive influence of Energy and the power it provides those with over those without led to the conflict, the suppression of the Alliance, and the exploitation of those we once called humans. We are all humans now.
He thought for a moment before adding one more point. There are no Aliomenti and Alliance any longer. We’re all humans now.
He hit send, and then counted. One, two, three, four…
The reply popped up on his screen. What? You destroyed Energy? You had no right to do that!
He sighed. He’d been right about one thing during that discussion on Headquarters Plaza as the fighting ceased. If they’d come back here and suggested detonating the device despite winning the fight, they’d be shouted down.
He shut down his tablet computer and went for a walk.
Eden had become a heavily populated region over the past week. They’d mended the injuries of the wounded and then began the time-consuming process of ferrying the humans—no, not the “humans,” the former workers from Headquarters Island rescued from their effective slavery—back to the mainland, each with sufficient monies to allow them to move to wherever they chose. Many asked to stay on Eden, but they’d refused.
“Will?”
He jumped.
After twelve centuries with Energy, the staggering void left behind was most noticeable in his inability to know when others approached. Adam’s approach had by no means been stealthy, but he’d failed to notice. “Hey.”
“Emails still coming in?”
Will nodded. “You, too?”
“A few. Not as many as you, I’m sure.”
He said nothing. It was only fair, he thought, that he get most of the blame. In many ways, it was entirely his fault. “I take it you didn’t come to ask me about my inbox.”
“No.” Adam hesitated. “Why did you lie about my mother?”
Will tensed briefly, then frowned. “Lie?”
“You told everyone that you asked her to go to Arthur, to give him information about you so he’d not actually kill us. We both know that’s not true.”
“It should have been true.” He thought back to the moment when he’d made the statement. “It probably wasn’t necessary. Nobody in the room seemed to think poorly of her for that choice. That, in part, was due to Arthur’s explanation and her physical condition. He made it pretty clear that she gave him just enough information to avoid making a catastrophic mistake, and it was clear that anything else they’d gotten from her hadn’t come willingly.” He hesitated. “I just… Eva was the first friend I made in the past. She’s been a huge part of my family’s life, and even its survival. I didn’t want her name potentially tarnished among the larger Alliance community when she couldn’t defend herself.”
Adam thought for a moment. “Thank you for that.”
Will nodded.
“I never really asked, by the way, about the weapon. How did you come up with the idea?”
Fil walked up to them at that moment. “That’s a good question.” He nodded at both men. “I think the last boat just left for the mainland. The formerly-labeled humans have left Eden.”
Will considered. “Hope and I had a lot of time to talk here while she recovered. We’d realized pretty early on in that process that once the known future history passed, we’d need to take action. Too many people died, too many lived in fear, to allow the Alliance-Aliomenti standoff to continue. We needed to push the issue before it got worse. That started the planning process. But Hope made the point that even if we won a battle of our choosing, even if we wiped out the Aliomenti entirely, we couldn’t change human nature. Someone with sufficient megalomania would generate sufficient power and decide they’d want to be in charge. For all we know, a child born today would be the one, a third or fourth-generation Energy user with immense power would decide the rules didn’t apply, and who’d stop them, right? We had to stop a person like that from taking control, just as Arthur did.” He shrugged. “Without Energy, Arthur can’t build an army of ten thousand powerful people who follow his every whim, who’ll happily sacrifice their happiness and even their lives just because he demands it. We realized that, as much good as Energy provides, it’s too much a temptation to think one’s self a god. It’s a narcotic, and an addictive one.”
Fil cocked his head. “We’ve built technology that replicates nearly every advantage gained with Energy, though. We’ve got portals that teleport people. The nanos can do things… well, they seem like magic at times, don’t they?”
“They do,” Will agreed. “But in the usage of that technology, you know it’s a tool, a machine, not an inherent part of you. And anyone can use them. There’s enough information about the technology out in the world now that anyone could, with sufficient focus, get near enough to what we’ve had for so long that there’s no longer a competitive advantage.”
Adam looked thoughtful. “I see the point.” He paused. “How’d you come up with the idea for the device itself?”
“In my youth, many fiction stories were written about something called EMP: Electromagnetic pulse. The idea was simple enough: detonate nuclear warheads not on the ground, but in the atmosphere. The result? All electronic devices immediately cease operation and can’t be repaired. There were novels written about the chaos that would erupt in such a scenario. The idea stuck with me, and when we talked about trying to end not just Arthur’s rule but Energy, the approach struck me. Could we make an EMP of sorts that would eliminate not electricity, but Energy? Could we make it so that the only people affected were Energy users?”
“And you did.” Fil nodded.
“And we did,” Will agreed. He offered a sheepish grin. “Based upon my inbox, the plan was overwhelmingly successful.”
“I’m confused, though,” Adam said, stroking his chin. “I’ve known you too long to think you’d design something, build it, and never test it out. You tested this device somehow. You knew it would work. But… how?”
“The question isn’t how. The question is who.”
Adam shrugged. “Okay, then. Who?”
“Sarah.”
Fil blinked. “What?”
“She knew she’d be on Eden for quite some time, and she wanted to help us in our efforts to defeat those who’d made that a necessity. She saw that same flaw, that we’d have to test it out on a smaller scale before activating it on the field of battle. And so she volunteered to test it out.”
“But…” Fil paused. “Wait a minute. Are you saying…?”
Will nodded. “She took zirple and morange and developed Energy just to test out the device. The first few prototypes didn’t work. She built her Energy up quite diligently, to the point she could even teleport around the Island.” He sighed. “And then one day, the device worked. No more Energy.”
“I had no idea,” Fil whispered.
Adam nodded thoughtfully. “That’s why you asked her to be the one to activate it in the end.”
Will nodded. “We wouldn’t have had the option without her.”
“What made the weapon seem so appealing, though?” Adam asked. “I mean, I get that it’s disruptive, obviously, but…”
“We always stressed living our lives in a very Energy-less manner,” Will explained. “When we traveled Outside, we did so with very little Energy use, both to ensure we offered options the Energy-less could use, and to avoid detection by the Hunters.”
“I think I understand, then,” Adam said. “In a situation where Energy vanished from everyone in an instant, we’d be far better able to recover and win a battle.”
“That’s part of it,” Will said. “And if we didn’t recover, if the odds were so horrific that we ended up eliminated? The remaining Aliomenti would have far less ability to control those in the world around them.”
“The ultimate weapon,” Adam nodded. “The world would be transformed regardless of the outcome of the fighting.”
Will nodded. His tablet chimed again. “More love from those affected, I suppose. I’ll check in again later.”
Anna walked up to them. “We’ve got a few people insisting on riding out of the Cavern through the pods again.”
Fil chuckled. “Old habits die hard, don’t they?”
With teleportation no longer available, the primary transport mechanism into and out of the Cavern ceased being viable. They’d built one pod with a more standard door, but the first submarine able to set up a secure hatch at those depths was months away from completion. They’d set up another half dozen portal sites in the Cavern, allowing those in the Cavern to leave at will. The first portals in the undersea Ports were due for completion in the next few weeks. Thankfully, all of the underwater sites had plenty of air, fresh water, and food in the interim.
“So… what do I tell them?” Anna asked.
“They can feel free to hate me,” Will said. “But the reality is that the single usable pod, at the moment, is nothing more than an amusement park ride.”
Anna chuckled and Fil moved to her. “I’ll come with you and talk with them.”
She smiled, grateful for his support, and they moved away.
Will glanced at Adam. “You know what’s bothering Hope, don’t you?”
Adam stiffened. “I… what do you mean?”
“You’ve been watching her quite closely since Arthur’s death. I’ve seen you talking with her. She’s not told me what Arthur said to her that so deeply troubled her.” Will began to pace. “I know you know, Adam.”
Adam smiled faintly. “Years ago, you told my father that there was a reason you wouldn’t tell him where Eva and Hope had gone, and when he pressed you about it, you said, essentially, that it wasn’t your news to share. Do I know what Arthur said? I do. I know why it’s bothering her.” He clapped Will on the back. “Your wife is a strong woman, Will. She’s loved you for dozens of lifetimes. She just needs time to process something, and when she does, she’ll tell you.”
“Will?”
Hope stood there, and he whirled around.
She looked as radiant as ever, but something about her face had changed. The distant look she’d expressed for the past week was gone, replaced with determination.
“Hey.”
“I’m ready to show you what he said.”
Will paused. “Show me?”
She nodded. “He told me something. And he projected an image that would give me far more detail. I’m ready to go learn the truth.” She looked at Adam. “You’ll come with us, right?”
Adam nodded. “Of course.”
Will frowned. “Why, though? No offense to Adam, but why does he need to come with us? And what’s this truth we need to learn together?”
Hope glanced at Adam. “The truth about who my parents really were.”
XLVI
WILL STARED AT HER. “WAIT. What?”
She grabbed his arm. “Let’s go. I’m only going to be strong enough to do this once.”
Will let her pull him along, too surprised to offer any resistance. She led him through the various former Aliomenti and Alliance working on Eden, most of whom were still learning to live life without Energy. Many were here because they wanted to learn to live in that manner before heading off into the world once more. Many remained because they feared what the outside world now meant.
They walked along the river bisecting the island, walking in silence. Adam maintained a respectful distance behind them, close enough that he’d not lose sight of them, far enough away that he’d not overhear a private comment.
Will looked at Hope as they continued their journey. “Where are we going?”
“We’re going back. To where I died.”
Will blinked. After living for so many centuries with full knowledge of future events, he’d been confused a great deal in the past few weeks. None of that confusion neared the complete bafflement he felt now.
They walked up the hills, passing the caves where once they’d found the blue-hued rock they’d called scutarium, and Will glanced back at Adam. The man had stopped moving, standing atop one of the grassy hills atop the caves, his head bowed and his eyes closed. Will felt himself slowing down, and Hope pulled him along, forcing him to take his eyes off the friend who seemed more mysterious, not less, with each passing day.
They reached the beach a few moments later. Adam joined them after mere seconds. Hope pulled a remote from her pocket and clicked, turning the flying sphere visible and opening a door to the inside. She climbed aboard, followed by Adam. Will watched, wondering what was happening, before finally climbing aboard himself.
Hope locked the door of the sphere, and seconds later they were flying, soaring over the waves of the Atlantic, moving to the northeast. Will felt his mouth tighten. Were all secrets found to the northeast? The craft accelerated, and soon they were cruising long at maximum speed.
Hope watched the water.
Adam watched Hope.
Will finally broke the silence. “Sorry. Did you say… we’re flying somewhere… to learn who your parents really were?”
Adam, not Hope, nodded. Hope continued watching the water. Will glanced at the man. “You know already, don’t you?”
Adam nodded. “She knows too, Will. For her, it’s the context that matters now.”
“You’re telling me that Genevieve and Arthur Lowell are not her parents.”
He paused a fraction of a second. “That’s what I’m telling you.”
Will frowned. That pause meant something. “Adam, is Genevieve Hope’s mother?”
He nodded.
Will felt a chill creep down his spine. “Are you saying… you’re telling me that Arthur isn’t her father?”
Adam looked at the water.
They rode in silence after that.
The sphere flew over England. The land had changed greatly since Will’s first visit to this much large island so many centuries before. Modern roads and housing and transportation filled the landscape now. They moved along, until they reached a curious pairing of rivers, settling down on an open field between the two.
The trees were gone. But Will knew. This was the site of the old North Village.
Dams had changed the flow of the water. He couldn’t distinguish them now by the rate at which the water moved. But it felt right, for the most part. He just missed the comfort and company of the old trees.
The sphere settled to the ground, and Hope hit the remote, opening the door. Adam hopped out first. Will, hesitant, followed.
Hope’s face made it clear she was losing her nerve. She didn’t move.
Adam reached for her. “It’s okay, Hope.”
She looked at Will, and he reached out a hand as well. She accepted his hand and let him help her step out of the craft. She glanced at Adam. “Do you know where it is?”
He nodded, marching with confidence away from the sphere. Will watched him. “How does he know so much, Hope?”
“I don’t know. One day, I suppose, he’ll talk mo
re. This… for right now, I don’t want to know more than this. And I’m not sure I want to know this.”
They followed Adam, who’d stopped at a bare patch of earth twenty yards away. He concentrated, and a shovel formed in his hands. When they reached the spot, Hope made a shovel of her own. Will, still uncertain what they were doing, followed suit.
They put their shovels into the ground and began to dig. The dirt here was compacted, and the work was grueling. They dug, moving earth and rock, setting it aside. Periodically, Will or Hope would stray outside a boundary only Adam could see, and he’d pull them back in.
Thirty minutes later, Will stood in a hole that left only his head above the ground. He thrust his shovel in once more.
The sound told him he’d hit something.
Their pace accelerated, and they soon uncovered something.
When Will realized what it was, he dropped his shovel and scampered away.
Hope backed away as well. “I don’t… I can’t be the one to open it.”
Adam nodded. “It’s one of the reasons I agreed to come. Will lowered this box into the ground with you inside so long ago. You nearly died inside. I understand neither of you would feel comfortable opening it.”
Adam knelt down next to the submerged coffin of nineteen-year-old Elizabeth Lowell, who’d died in the year 1021, gripped the edge, and pulled it open.
The smell was musty, like an abandoned house, and small bits of dust kicked up. They waved their hands, driving the dust away, and peered inside.
Will saw the red velvet pouch.
It once held the last known possessions of Genevieve, Hope’s mother. Arthur had seen fit to hand the pouch to Will as they prepared to bury his apparently-dead daughter. Hope kept the hairpin and necklace, but they’d left the pouch behind. Will had returned here once, leaving a warning message inside the pouch for Arthur.
Somehow, Will knew the pouch once more held a message.
Adam stepped inside the coffin and retrieved the pouch. “Do you want to stay here?”
Hope shook her head.
Convergence Page 28